


Her pleasure will not let me stay

by PandaInTheStars



Series: Lucifer Oneshots [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Season/Series 03, Torture Mentioned, are you tired of post-3x24 fics, because guess what this is, death mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 19:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17607107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaInTheStars/pseuds/PandaInTheStars
Summary: Chloe dreams of Hell.





	Her pleasure will not let me stay

Chloe dreams of Hell.

She doesn’t know it is Hell, of course. Not at first. She only knows that there are dark corridors lined on all sides with thick, metal doors. Some of the doors have chains and some do not. She can hear noises behind them, and not all of them are sounds of pain. Behind some doors there are quiet voices and behind others laughter. Some doors offer only desolate silence. She does not open any of them.

It's hot. The heat presses down on all sides. Along with the ash, which rains down from a black sky, it is difficult to breathe. There is no light to accompany the heat. It is as if a great fire once raged but now has been reduced to less than smoldering embers. The fire must have been truly cataclysmic, though, for the heat and ash to remain so oppressive.

Chloe wanders the halls. Occasionally she passes shadowy figures, some human-shaped. Most not. They don’t acknowledge her. This is how Chloe figures out where she is. The figures carry implements that are clearly intended for torture. Whips. Chains. Knives. Guns. They also carry items that are less explicable. A tuba. A pair of children’s shoes. A photo album.

There are no defining features in this land. Only stone and metal and shadow. There is, however, a slight rise in elevation as Chloe walks forward. She follows the upward trend. It’s a hunch, but she has a feeling the ruler of this place would want to stay as close to the stars as possible.

_“Are you doing okay, Chloe?” asks Ella._

_“Fine,” Chloe says, looking up. She pushes away a stray lock of hair. At Ella’s look, she amends, “Just didn’t get much sleep last night.”_

_Ella nods at this, but doesn’t move away. She lingers at Chloe’s desk, and Chloe looks at her, expectantly._

_Ella sighs and looks down, like she’s ashamed to meet Chloe’s gaze. “It’s just,” she says softly. “… I really thought he would come back.”_

_Chloe doesn’t have to ask who Ella is referring to. “Yeah. Me too.”_

 

Chloe walks up and up and up. She might be climbing a mountain, or it might just be a small rise. There are no relative features in the landscape to tell, and she does not feel tired. She just walks and walks and walks, past the doors and the shadowy figures and the ash.

When the architecture finally changes the effect is so jarring that Chloe stops and gasps. Or at least tries to gasp – this is a dream after all, and no sound escapes her. But there _is_ something different here. A large stone structure with sharp geometric lines. Swooping trusses speak of high, vaulted ceilings within. The curves of the building are so elegant and so aesthetically pleasing that Chloe wants to cry after having seen nothing but endless Hell, Hell, Hell.

Chloe takes the opportunity to look behind her. She is indeed at the pinnacle of a very high hill. Below her stretches nothing but jagged stone and blackness, riddled with holes and tunnels. The contrast between _that_ and the structure before her makes her shiver.

She turns back and approaches its gate. The gate is simple and unadorned, and, compared to the doors and chains she has seen, unthreatening. Nothing stops her as she steps through. No one slows her progress. Whatever this place is, it seems that Chloe is welcome.

_“Lucifer’s penthouse was robbed?” Chloe asks. She keeps her voice steady, but she cannot hide the dark circles under her eyes._

_“Yeah,” says Dan. “It was only a matter of time. The guy didn’t even have a lock.”_

_Chloe blinks. The information slides past her, like a lot of things do these days. “What was taken?”_

_“They weren’t too smart, whoever they were. They got the jewelry, expensive clothing, technology, his booze. Lucifer actually had a lot of stuff that’s way more valuable, though. Old manuscripts and priceless works of art.”_

_Chloe doesn’t remark on Dan’s use of the past tense._

_“Also, Chlo… the unis found something else when they were checking the place out…”_

_“Yes?”_

_“They found… a will.”_

_Chloe stiffens, her casually affected indifference sliding away. “Dan,” she says, and her voice is unforgiving. “Lucifer is missing. Officially missing. Legally missing. It hasn’t even been a year yet.”_

_“That’s not what I’m saying, Chloe. I’m just saying… you should look at it.”_

_“Why should I look at Lucifer’s will? It’s his. It’s private.”_

_“Because… you’re in it.” Dan takes a deep breath and releases it with a shudder. “You’re… pretty much the only thing in it.”_

 

The inside of the structure is no less intimidating. It feels like she has walked into a cathedral in the dead of night. Chloe stays silent as she wanders down what must be a foyer. She passes more and more of the shadowy figures – the demons – as they rush to and fro. They carry themselves with the urgency of early morning commuters, passing documents back and forth. Ah. So this is middle management.

The foyer narrows and Chloe is now in a mess of hallways. Unsure of which way to go, she studies the demons. A great many of them pass through a single outlet and Chloe follows them. The traffic is too dense here for her not to bump into them, but she finds that they pass through her like mist. Or like ghosts.

Or, Chloe realizes, perhaps she is the ghost here.

The demons speak in a guttural language that holds no meaning for her. Occasionally they break out into something resembling a human tongue, but Chloe only understands enough to identify the language. Hebrew, Korean, Portuguese… and then, briefly, a snatch of English from one of the more human-shaped demons. It’s holding what looks like a clipboard.

“…different, I know. Overcompensation, perhaps?” it tells its infernal colleague.

The other demon’s eyes (of which it has many) widen. “You would dare…? Don’t be foolish. We should consider ourselves lucky…” and then they are gone, rushing down the hallway to complete some task.

Chloe blinks and turns away from them. She continues her sojourn down the busy hallway. It ends in a pair of enormous doors. The doors are carved with an intricate relief. Chloe’s mouth falls open as she sees what it depicts. Wings, wings, so many wings… decorate the upper half of the doors, filled in between with clashing arms and swords. And below… fire and gnashing teeth and pain and bone and blood. And between the two… a depiction of a man she knows well. He wears something that looks not quite like a regal robe and not quite like armor. Wings spread out behind him, wicked and sharp. He holds a sword in one hand, thrust outwards toward an unseen enemy. The sword itself is wreathed in light and flame.

It is a snapshot of a Rebellion. A War in Heaven.

Chloe can’t help herself. She pushes her way through the throng of demons, slips through the doors, and enters the throne room.

_Telling Trixie is the hardest part. First that Charlotte and Pierce are dead. And then, once it was obvious, that Lucifer is missing._

_Trixie (who is barely 9 and too, too young for this) takes it all as well as can be expected. She loved all of them in different ways. Chloe doesn’t have the heart to tell her about Marcus and the evil he represented. Trixie has fond memories of him, and Chloe wants her daughter to keep as many untarnished happy memories as she can._

_Chloe loves her daughter’s artistry, and it pains her to see Charlotte and Pierce disappear from Trixie’s portraits of family and friends. Lucifer, however, stubbornly remains. Only now does Chloe notice that Trixie often draws Lucifer with wings. Or, sometimes, she’ll draw a red figure in a dark suit holding Trixie’s stick figure hand. Was it imagination? Or did Trixie really…? Unable to contain her curiosity, Chloe asks._

_“He’s an angel, mommy. I read about angels on the internet. They all have jobs that keep them really, really busy. That’s why Lucifer’s gone. I bet once he gets a vacation he’ll come back and visit us.”_

_Chloe holds back tears and embraces her daughter in a warm hug. “Trixie, babe,” she chokes. “You know Lucifer’s not really…” And she finds she can’t finish the sentence. Chloe wants her daughter to grow up well-adjusted, but she also can’t lie to her, not after the truth has become so abundantly clear._

_“Don’t worry,” says Trixie. And this is so wrong. Her daughter should not be the one doing the comforting. “He really likes you. I can tell. Everyone can tell. He’s just busy right now. He’ll come back.”_

 

He doesn’t come back.

Instead, he lounges easily on his throne, overseeing his court. He wears a crisp all-black three-piece suit. That, at least, is familiar. What is less familiar are the great white wings that spread lazily behind him, curling over the back of the throne. A cruel little smirk decorates his face as he listens to some kind of presentation. He looks intensely bored, his cheek propped up by his hand.

Chloe pushes through the crowd of demons that stand at attention. Eventually she makes it far enough to hear what is being said.

“…your name?” asks Lucifer, his voice clear and achingly familiar.

Chloe sees that Lucifer is addressing a human man. The man kneels at the base of the short flight of steps that lead up to the throne. He is unremarkable: a little on the older side of middle aged and wearing casual business attire.

“Michael,” he replies. His eyes are wide and glassy with fear, but his voice is almost preternaturally calm.

“Oh, another one?” Lucifer says flippantly. “You lot should really get a bit more creative with the names. It’s been long enough. I don’t see why you need to keep naming your spawn after my prat of a brother.”

Michael says nothing. He stays rooted to the floor as if grounded by invisible chains.

Lucifer rolls his eyes and sighs. “So, Michael, do you know where you are?”

“Hell.” There is no emotion in his tone.

“And do you know who I am?”

“Satan.”

“You really are a boring one, aren’t you? A woman in here earlier called me Mephistopheles. Now that lady knew her literature. Well, she also knew how to emotionally manipulate and torture the people around her. No one’s perfect, I guess.”

Lucifer’s eyes are alight with what Chloe recognizes as his natural humor. But Michael continues to say nothing, and Lucifer’s expression dims at the lack of response.

“…Which brings us back to the point at hand. Why are you here, Michael?” Lucifer asks, his voice slipping into one of utter boredom.

“I embezzled money from a charity,” Michael responds robotically.

“Scintillating. What kind of charity?”

“It raised money for children’s health programs in developing countries. I stole a lot of money. Children died because the charity couldn’t fulfill its promises to its partners.”

Lucifer’s mouth curls into a sneer. “Indeed.” Lucifer lifts himself and sits up straight in his throne. His wings flare out before tucking themselves primly behind him. Then he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. “So, tell me Michael. What do you desire? What do you want, now that you’re here in my domain?”

Michael opens his mouth to reply, but for the first time he seems to struggle with his answer. He makes several strangled noises, his eyes as wide as they can go, before he cracks under the weight of Lucifer’s gaze. “I… I… I want to see those children dying. I want to watch them die of all those easily preventable diseases… They died and it’s all my fault. I want to watch it happen. I want to watch their families grieve. I want their families to _know_ I’m to blame. I want them to blame me.” He cuts off, trembling from head to foot.

“Well!” says Lucifer. “Sounds good to me!” Lucifer then stands and claps his hands twice, regally. Several demons detach themselves from the crowd and place their hands around Michael’s arms, pulling him to his feet. “You heard the man,” Lucifer says, pointing towards another set of double doors at the opposite end of the throne room from where Chloe entered. “Take him away.”

It is as if a spell has broken. “No, wait!” Michael cries. “Please, stop! Stop! I don’t – I didn’t –” His eyes flick to Lucifer, recognizing him as the one with the power here. “Please! You have to believe me. I didn’t mean – I never meant… I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

And Lucifer laughs. He laughs and laughs and laughs, dark and cold and menacing. And as the sound ripples through the chamber he _changes_ into the red, scarred nightmare Chloe remembers from all those months ago.

At the sight of it Michael begins to scream. He doesn’t stop screaming as the demons drag him away. The doors close behind him and his cries can still be heard, until gradually they fade away.

_Chloe talks to Maze and it’s too late. Too late to reconcile. Too late to understand. Maze stands with her arms crossed and the get-the-fuck-away-from-me vibes are so strong they sting._

_“What do you want, Decker?” she snaps. “I’m not going to hurt you or the little human, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Her brow furrows, a tiny crack in her armor. “I mean, not anymore.”_

_“I… I wasn’t worried, Maze,” Chloe says. “It’s just… so much. I’m just trying to understand.”_

_“Understand? Took you long enough. I thought it took a while for Linda to get her shit together, but you’re something else, Decker.” She sniffs and tosses her head. And then she turns, intending to leave._

_“Wait!” Chloe cries. She reaches her hand out, intending to grab Maze by her shoulder. But she stops at the last second, and her hand hovers in the air, useless._

_Maze stares at Chloe’s hand with only thinly veiled disgust. “Look, give me a week and you’ll never see me again,” Maze says, raising her hands in surrender. “I’m just staying with Linda right now until I can find my own place.”_

_Chloe sniffs and discovers that she’s crying. When did that happen? “Maze… do you know? Where he is? Is he… is he… back_ there _… in… in Hell?”_

 _“Honestly, I couldn’t care less where the fuck he is. But if he hasn’t come back to you yet, then yeah, sure, he’s probably in Hell. Not that he bothered to tell me or anything. That’s what he_ does _, Decker. He leaves people behind.” She turns her back on Chloe. “Whatever. I have a life here now. See ya never.” And she starts to walk away._

_Chloe wants to say something. She wants to apologize, but she’s not sure what she’s even supposed to be apologizing for. So she says nothing, and Maze disappears._

_That night, her nightmares move beyond nebulous mishmashes of painful emotions. They crystallize into something real and solid. For the first time, Chloe dreams of Hell._

 

Lucifer’s form changes back into the one Chloe is familiar with and he slumps into his throne, half crushing his wings behind him. He looks uncomfortable, and any humor is wiped from his expression. It’s hard to believe that only seconds ago he was laughing maniacally at the prospect of punishing Michael’s evil deeds.

“Next!” he calls out, like an obnoxious patron at a fancy restaurant, demanding the next course. Instantly, the demons rush about, probably preparing the next soul to be judged.

Chloe seizes her opportunity. She pushes through the remaining crowd of demons and starts approaching the throne. It disappoints her that she is merely a ghost in this place. He will not know she is there, will not be able to speak with her. But at least she can approach him. At least she can check whether he is okay. It’s been so long, and she wants to know whether he is still him. Whether, even here, even in Hell, he is still her Lucifer.

She reaches the base of the stairs and looks up–

–and meets his eyes, directly.

Chloe freezes in place, stunned. How can he see her? How can he see her when no one else can?

Lucifer seems even more shocked. His eyes grow wide and he leaps out of his chair. A single gesture with his right hand causes all the movement in the court to cease, like time has stopped. He looks at her, unblinking. His jaw works, like he’s trying to find the right words, but nothing comes out.

“What is this?” he settles on, his voice so quiet it’s barely audible.

Chloe wants to say something, to tell him that everything’s fine. This is just a dream. None of this is real. Not him. Not even her. But because this is a dream, and dreams never go the way you want them to, Chloe cannot speak her mind. So she just looks at Lucifer and smiles.

Lucifer leaps down the stairs in one fluid motion, his wings spreading wide to catch him on his descent. He rushes towards her and holds his hands out as if he wants to cup her cheeks. And then he changes his mind and his hands descend to hold her waist. And then his arms spasm and hang loosely by his sides, and he doesn’t touch her at all.

“You can’t be here. You can’t _be here_ ,” he says, and his voice is filled with grief. “Why are you here? You can’t… you should never…” And then his eyes narrow and he lets out a single bark of hysterical laughter. “This is His doing, isn’t it? Want to appease me, do You?” This is directed at the ceiling. “Well it didn’t work. She shouldn’t be here. SHE SHOULDN’T BE HERE. I’ll tear the gates of Heaven apart! I’ll wage war! HOW DARE YOU? _HOW DARE YOU?!_ ”

Chloe wants to reach out to him. Wants to tell him that she’s alright. But she can tell that the dream is becoming a little too lucid. She’s waking up. Already Lucifer and the throne room are becoming blurry, drifting into a mist. She can barely see Lucifer turn around and rush back towards her.

“Chloe? _Chloe?!_ Where are you going? What’s happening? Chloe, no, please, Chloe stay with me. Please stay with me. Chloe, STOP! _WAIT_ –”

 

 

 

 

 

Chloe blinks. She’s in her bed. In her bedroom.

It was all a dream.

 

 

 

 

 

Chloe wakes on a Saturday morning to the sounds of someone breaking and entering. Instantly alarmed – and simultaneously grateful that Trixie is staying with friends – she grabs her gun and whips out of bed. She pads on silent, socked feet out of her bedroom and down the hall, gun cocked and breaths even. She pivots around the corner into her living room to find…

…an archangel, his wings spread out, apparently having knocked over every lamp, glass ornament, and bookshelf in the room.

Blinking, Chloe lowers her gun, and waits for him to collect himself. It takes Lucifer a minute to disentangle himself from the TV wires and throw blankets. The moment he does he snaps his wings back into nonexistence and turns to face Chloe. His expression is one of pure relief.

“Detective!” he cries, and launches himself at her. Chloe almost regrets lowering her weapon until she understands what’s happening. He’s hugging her, no – _embracing_ her, like she’s his lifeline. He buries his face in her neck and squeezes harder. “You’re alive! You’re okay.” And his voice breaks off into quiet laughter that sounds only a little choked. “You’re alive. Oh, Detective, you’re _alive_.”

Stunned, Chloe somehow finds the wherewithal to holster her weapon and return the embrace. “Lucifer,” she says, and is surprised to find that her voice isn’t steady either. “You’re here. You’re… you’re actually here.”

Lucifer stills against her and then pulls away. Chloe feels bereft as he takes a firm step back. “Yes,” he says, visibly steadying himself. “I’m sorry. My apologies, Detective. I merely wanted to… check on your wellbeing. I thought I saw… well, never mind. I’m sorry. I know I don’t belong here. I’ll leave immediately.” And he actually starts walking towards her front door.

“Wait!” Chloe says, and reaches out to grab him by the arm. He freezes in place, but does not face her. “Lucifer… I… I saw it too.”

Slowly, he turns. “You… saw? Detective… how?”

Chloe shakes her head. She doesn’t know. And in this moment she really, _really_ doesn’t care. “Please don’t go, Lucifer. Please stay.” She tightens her grip on his arm.

Lucifer gazes at her. “Why?” he asks.

Chloe’s mouth flaps open, flabbergasted. “ _Why?_ Why _stay?_ Lucifer, why did you _leave?_ ”

He drops his eyes, looking everywhere except at her. “Because… you’re afraid of me.”

Chloe squeezes his arm tighter, frustrated. “ _Of course_ I’m afraid, Lucifer–” He flinches. “–but that doesn’t mean I want you _gone_. I want to _understand_ … I… I want to… _not_ be afraid, and I can’t do that if you just disappear on me.”

Lucifer looks like he wants to sink into the Earth. Literally. “Detective… I can’t stand to be here knowing that I’m… _hurting_ you… I don’t want you to be afraid. I want you to be happy.”

“Then tell me. Tell me why I shouldn’t be afraid.”

Lucifer swallows. Slowly but firmly he pulls away, leaving Chloe’s arm dangling. “I can’t tell you, Detective. If it’s true that you… saw me… down _there_. Then you know exactly who I am. What I’ve done. I can’t tell you that you shouldn’t be afraid. Because _you should be_.”

Lucifer’s words could be menacing, but to Chloe’s ears they only sound sad. “But you hate it, don’t you?” she asks, quietly.

Lucifer blinks in confusion before he realizes what Chloe is referring to. “Of course I hate it. I’m no judge. I mostly just listen to what those damned souls want and then provide it. Unless of course they’ve done something truly heinous. Then there’s a bit of creative license.” His expression flickers into a smirk, before flattening. “That’s why I took vacations. That’s why I left as soon as I could.”

Chloe’s mouth crinkles into a watery smile. “Then who you are _down there_ isn’t you, Lucifer.” At Lucifer’s confused expression she continues, “That’s who you are when you don’t have any other options. Up here, where you’re free? You’re a club owner and a civilian consultant for the LAPD.” Chloe wants to laugh as the epiphany washes over her. “That’s who you _really_ are. Not exactly the stuff of nightmares.”

“Detective…” Lucifer breathes.

Chloe sobers. “Please stay. You want me to be happy? Well, I want you to be happy too. And I _know_ you’re not happy there. Please don’t go back.”

Lucifer stands there, solid and immobile. Chloe stares at him, as though the force of her gaze will keep him tethered to the Earth. She holds her breath and waits for his decision. If he decides to go… if he decides in another one of his idiotic self-sacrificing moods that her happiness is worth more than his… then this might be the last time she sees him. And this time she’ll know that it really is the last time. So Chloe drinks in the sight of him, and tries not to fall apart.

“…Okay,” he says.

Chloe breaks into a smile, and it is only slightly marred by tears. Lucifer does the same.

“Well then, welcome to Earth, Mr. Morningstar. Or welcome back, I guess.”

“Pleasure to be here, Detective.”

Chloe manages to choke out a little laughter. She knows that this is the beginning – a new beginning, for them. She knows that she’s still confused (and afraid, still) of what it all means, of how much wider the universe is now. And she knows that they need to talk about the future, about Maze, about his will and what that means for them.

But now, with the precious gift of _time_ , all is possible.

And all will be well.

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the poem "My November Guest" by Robert Frost.


End file.
